The Saga Ends
by Soter
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away..." Perhaps the famous saga is closer than we imagine...
1. George forgot to Spellcheck

_"A long time ago… __…in a galaxy, far, far away…"_

This is not a "what if" story, but rather a "what will." Each of the movies begins with the now infamous line: "_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_" But is it really that far away? Space is pretty big. Who's to say that George Lucas simply forgot a comma in that simple yet prolific line in cinematic history? Maybe it should read: "_A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away_..." It is not the galaxy that is far, only the location within the galaxy.

Perhaps the saga is closer than we truly believe…


	2. Rollup

A long time ago…

…in a galaxy, far, far away…

* * *

Over two thousand years have past since the death of Jacen Solo. Since then, the Galaxy has healed itself, only to fight again. The Empire, with the assistance of some nefarious allies, has nearly destroyed all that the Rebellion had fought for. Now, that war, and those who fought in it, are only distant memories.

As are the Jedi. Following the war, a treaty was signed by the Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Empire. It was a non-aggression pact, promising that neither government would attack the other. It also removed all political and military powers the Jedi Order possessed. It also disbanded all combat related organizations, including the Imperial Knights. It was thought by the leaders of the Galaxy that if there was no Force-using military order, there could be no perversion of power by a potential Sith warlord.

And so, the Jedi Order was reduced to a collection of philosophers and their ideals, without any weapons to fight with. The few Imperial Knights that were left became nothing more than an ornate, and useless, escort detail for the royal family. None of this seemed to trouble any of the citizens. In their mind, the true enemy, the Sith, could not rise again if there were no Jedi running about unchecked by governments. The Galaxy was at peace once again.

Thus, for the last half a millennia, there has been no Jedi Order; no Knights guarding innocent lives; no Force-wielding Skywalker. It seems the Legacy of the Force as ended.

Or has it?

On a planet, far removed from the influence of bickering governments and scandalous ideals, a single Jedi Master bides his time, waiting for the young man he will train…


	3. One Saga Ends

One Saga Ends...

* * *

…an epic unlike anything on your planet…

…the story of a boy, a girl, and a galaxy…

* * *

The majestic tones of William's music die down as the credits roll to a close. Rubbing his eyes, Ethan Kardos stretches and looks about the dark living room. On the couch to his right dozes Victoria, his younger sister. On the overstuffed recliner in the back, sprawled out in an apparently uncomfortable position is Owen, his sister's twin brother. The reason he is probably uncomfortable, one Patricia Sullivan, is resting on top of him.

"Must've been some film festival; seeing as how everyone stayed awake to see the end." Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light in the hall, is Rick Gallagher. Ever since Ethan's parents had died four years ago, Rick had been kind enough to take in the three children.

_Well_, Ethan looks over to where Owen and Trish lay entwined, _we're_ _not children anymore. _The twenty-three year old sits up and pivots in his chair, facing his "uncle." He never gets a chance to respond; instead a sleepy voice speaks up.

"It was riveting. You should have seen when that one guy went and blew up that one dude who looks like a slug." A nearly incoherent Owen looks up from his chair, trying hard not to move too much, lest he wake the young lady in his arms.

"I always though those little koala-bear type things were cool."

Ethan smiles; an off-centered smile that he, and his brother, have become well known for. "I always knew you were a sick man, Rick. I just never realized _how_ sick." The three men chuckle quietly.

"Better wake Tory and have her get upstairs. And you," Rick points to Owen, "better get _her_ home. I don't want to explain to her father, _again_, why she spent the night here."

The seventeen year old young man feigns innocence. "Hey, she took my bed and I slept on the couch. Nothing happened."

"But you wish something _did_ happen?" Ethan narrows his green eyes at his younger brother.

"If you had a girl this beautiful in your arms, wouldn't you?"

Unable to contain himself, Ethan tosses a small pillow at his brother. The pillow hits the top of the chair, missing Owen's head by inches. The soft plop, though, wakes Trish.

"Uh-oh, fun's over." Owen smiles at his girlfriend.

Sleepily, she smiles back at him. "What time is it?"

Ethan looks at his watch. The hands of the heavy aviator's time peace glows timidly at him. The revelation causes him to yawn. "One seventeen in the morning."

A soft smack and groan tell Ethan all he needs to know. Trish gets up and makes her way to the front door, hopping every so often in an attempt to get her shoes on. "Dad is going to kill you if he finds out I nearly spent the night here, again."

Trying not to trip as he followed her out, Owen gave a slight shrug and a brief lopsided grin. "Guess I'll be back."

As he left, Ethan shot one last quip: "That is if Jack Sullivan doesn't shoot you first!" The only response he gets it a slammed door.

"Kids."

* * *


	4. Devil Dogs

Devil Dogs

* * *

_Eight months later…somewhere above the Caucus Mountains…_

"Hopefully they got those showers working again back at the 'Strip.'" Three mike clicks, all enthusiastic, affirm what the young Lt. Colonel feels. That feeling is grime, sweat, and exhaustion. With any luck, the ground crew at the forward attack station, known to all the Marine pilots as the "Strip," due to the makeshift aluminum runway, will have the portable shower unit, and mess hall, up and running before the weary pilots return.

"Our luck, though, there'll only be cold water."

Glancing over from his position in the lead fighter, the Lt. Colonel smiles. "Could be worse, Venom."

"Yeah, you could be walking home." The equally young Captain Kyle Miller takes another opportunity to jest at his friend and wingman's expense.

Beneath his oxygen mask, Captain Ethan "Venom" Kardos, United States Marine Corps, smiles. "I have no intention of ever walking home."

"I don't think that is necessarily going to be your decision," replies the final member of their formation. Captain Jessica Carl has a lot to live up to. Over sixty years ago, her great grandfather had flown in this very squadron in defense of Guadalcanal. What's more, he was the first Marine to become an ace.

"Okay, people, lets focus on our mission," barks Lt. Colonel Joshua Nakano. "We don't want to get distracted; those grunts are expecting us to bring our A game."

I wish I could get distracted. You know, have a picture of a beautiful young woman waiting for me back home taped in my cockpit. Ethan sighs. Oh well. In a few more months, I'll be back in the states, and I can start thinking about a relationship. Maybe.

* * *

_USMC Forward Air Station K-15 a.k.a.: "The Strip"_

Ducking into the low sitting tent, Kyle attempts, unsuccessfully, escapes the heat of the midday sun. Flopping on his cot, the young Marine reaches underneath to find a magazine he liberated from a 'swabbie' friend of his. Next to him, in his usual oblivious daze, is Ethan, engrossed in a paperback book.

"Whatcha reading?"

"New book. Owen sent it over last month, and I couldn't put it down, so I'm re-reading it."

The red haired pilot cocks his head. "Star Wars?" Ethan nods. "You like that stuff?" Another nod.

"If it wasn't for Star Wars, I may not have wanted to be a fighter pilot." Using a bit of paper to mark his place, Ethan puts down the book. "When I first saw the movie, I new immediately that I wanted to be that young man in the orange flight suit; racing his fighter down the Trench. I've spent the last eighteen years trying to become that hero." The young pilot smiles. "I guess some things never change."

"Oh? How's that?"

"When I was home last, my brother, sister, and I watched all six movies back to back. I don't know what it is about the stories, but they feel…like I belong. Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah. But I guess I know what you mean." Kyle walks over and gives his friend a reassuring slap on the back.

* * *

_That night…_

Ethan is half way to his feet before he realizes why. At first he thinks it is an air raid alarm, but only silence answers his unspoken question. It is not until he looks around that he begins to truly wonder what is happening.

While he is still on his cot at the 'Strip,' there is something different. Ethan looks left, only to see Kyle asleep on his cot. Ethan then looks right, and sees a member of the second flight, also asleep.

"So why the heck am I awake?" Instead of waiting to receive an answer to his near silent question, Ethan drops back onto the miniscule pillow, sleep finding him almost immediately.

And just as quickly, the light shaking that woke him up the first time is back.

"What!?" Ethan turns to his left, expecting Kyle to be standing there, ready with a prank for his fellow pilot.

Instead, a young woman is kneeling next to his cot; her brown eyes peering out from underneath a dark cowl hood, pleading with the young and groggy pilot.

"Ethan, I need you to listen to me."

Blinking a few times, Ethan stares at the woman. His eyes try to adjust to the soft, yet intense light that seems to be filling the tent from an unseen source. "Do I know you?"

"Yes, but I cannot explain now. What you must know is that when you are shot down, they will not come for you."

Confused, Ethan sits up. "What? 'When I am shot down.' How could you possibly know that I'm going to be shot down? Who are you?"

Standing up, the young woman adjusts the dark cloak she wears. Silently, she walks to the foot of his cot before stopping. "I must go. I will see you again, Csorba." With that, she turns, and disappears into the shadows.

Instantly, Ethan bolts upright, awake, the darkness surrounding him. He looks left, right, but does not see the woman. "What a crazy dream."

"Huh?" Kyle turns and looks over at his friend.

"Just a dream, go back to sleep."

"Whatever you say. Who were you talking to?"

Ethan lies back down. "I don't know. Like I said, just a dream." For a few eternal moments, Ethan stares up at nothing. It was just a dream, wasn't it?

* * *

L.S. (Lectori Salutem - Latin for "Greetings to the reader"): "Csorba" is a Hungarian word meaning (in context) "Jagged." It is pronounced "Chor-ba."


	5. First Blood

First Blood

* * *

_Two days later…near the boarder…_

"Kilo-2, say again." The four gray attack fighters orbit about the area, trying to find the friendly on the ground. Even in the age of GPS and super computers, there is always the fear of "blue-on-blue" incidents. And these four pilots have no desire to kill fellow Marines.

"…BMPs, four hundred yards…north. We need…hit them before…up their…" Static takes over as the signal is lost.

"Charlie Foxtrot! Colonel, how are we supposed to help them if we can't find out where they and the bad guys are?"

"Patience, Venom. We know there are BMPs setting up a something. The platoon should be four hundred south of them. We find the BMPs, we find our friends."

"Bingo! Found them, boss. Three BMPs. Looks like they're in position to fire anti-tank missiles. There's also a couple of Sierra Zulu Uniform Two Three with them."

Everyone's eyes go wide hearing Miller say that. The SZU-23 is one of the most dangerous anti-aircraft guns ever. Its four twenty-three millimeter cannons, aimed by radar, are able to shred any plane near the ground.

Like us. Breaking off, the flight spreads out to a standard line attack. Each Harrier carries two AGM-65 Maverick air-to-ground missiles, an AIM-120 AMRAAM air-to-air missile, and a single Mk. 82 general purpose bomb. On their belly, they each carry the powerful GAU-12U 25mm cannon and a full load of ammo.

"Venom, Six-Pack, go for the BMPs and troops. Marion and I will take out the triple A." Three clicks acknowledge the Colonel.

Ethan and "Six-Pack" Miller chandelle down to three hundred feet above the ground, bending around the east to come up on the blind spot of the personnel carriers. Kyle locks up his missiles on the closest two vehicles, while Ethan targets the last one and the outcropping where some troops set up a couple of hand held anti-air rockets. The four beefy missiles drop away from the drooping wings and speed off to their targets. Twenty seconds later, Ethan and Kyle see that the BMPs and the SAM toting troops are negated. Both pass over the area, spotting an SA-8 Gecko surface to air missile vehicle being set up.

"Colonel, we have a Gecko here. Their not loaded yet, nor is the radar set up. They must think this is a good spot to snipe fighters."

Reminding the two Marines that this is still a war zone, the SZU-23s firing a few fleeting rounds at them. None hit, nor are there any subsequent shots. As the two Harriers turn to hit the guns with their remaining weapons over, four more missiles streak in; two hit the tracked AAA vehicles, one hit a mobile radar van, and the last hit the missile being loaded onto the launcher.

"Those guys ain't shooting at anyone no more!"

The four fighters of VMA-223 form up to the south of the site. Beneath them, a Marine gunnery sergeant waves. The Colonel waggles his wings in response as the flight turns home.

"Stone-110, this is Sky Hawk. We have fast movers coming in from the north. Appears to be at least six tactical attackers, possibly Fencers. Colonel, your flight is the nearest that is able to deal with them. I have a flight of Air Force F-15 Charlies on the way, but it will be more than ten minutes before they get there."

"Roger, Sky Hawk. You want us to keep them occupied till the Eagles get here." Nakano turns his fighter back north, followed by his pilots.

"What's the situation?"

"We need to hold off Fencers. They're trying to go south and strike at the highway, again. Nearest interceptor's are over ten minutes out. We need to do whatever possible to keep casualties to a minimum."

Ethan clicks his mike in response; his green eyes narrowing. For the last two weeks, Su-24M Fencer-D attack aircraft have been trying to strike at the road heading south. The road served two purposes. One was as a way to get humanitarian aid north. The other was to get refugees south.

How about we keep casualties to zero. Slamming his throttle forward, Ethan flies closer to one of the most capable light bombers ever. Not even the venerable F-111 Aardvark could do as much damage as a Fencer.

Above them, six light blue and white blurs head south. As one, the four gray fighters turn and get behind their prey.

"Light 'em up!" Steady tones echo inside each pilot's helmet. In the blink of an eye, four AIM-120 missiles steak out to kill the large aircraft. The "Slammer" has a reputation for killing whatever it is shot at.

And this time is no different. Half a minute later, four of the Fencers go down. Unfortunately, two are left.

"Colonel, how close are the F-15s?"

"Still over five minutes out, Venom. Why?"

Ethan glares at the remaining bombers, who continue on their trip of destruction. "I'm not letting them get away." Again, Ethan firewalls the engine, bringing his airspeed up to just below the speed of sound. Slowly, he gains on the bombers. In his ear, the Colonel is yelling at him. Though he thinks better of it, Ethan switches off his radio.

"I'm not waiting for those Eagle drivers to get here too late." One of the bombers it two thousand feet away. Ethan climbs, noses over, and uses gravity to get closer. At a thousand feet, he opens fire. A three second burst tears open the left and right engine nacelles, and sets the engines on fire. Two small explosions erupt in the cockpit as the pilot and navigator eject.

One down. Continuing to break protocol, Ethan performs a barrel roll, and slides in behind the last bomber.

Climbing again, Ethan tries to get above the bomber. Obviously not stupid, the pilot of the Fencer climbs as well, and attempts to use his superior speed to escape. Not fast enough.

The bomber passes close enough that Ethan gets a short burst off at his tail, and hits an engine. The Fencer slows down, making it easy for Ethan to close the distance and pick it off.

"Two down!" Ethan switches his radio back on. "Splash three. All Fencers are destroyed."

"Copy that, we confirm. All attacking aircraft are destroyed. Congratulations Captain on the kills." Above them, the crew of the AWACS "Sky Hawk" cheers.

"Captain Kardos." Ethan looks over at his commander's plane. "That was one of the most stupid things I have ever seen in my fifteen years of flying. When we get back, I'm recommending you for a commendation. Don't do that again!"

Smiling, Ethan clicks affirmative.


	6. Departure

Departure

* * *

_One week later…_

It never failed that if anyone needed to find Kardos, they simply needed to look west. Especially in the morning.

At K-15, Ethan procured for himself a small dune to the west of the base. From it, he could look down and see the rising sun reflecting off of the Harriers. The silence of the desert often would be drowned out by the rising melody of Binary Sunset or some other epic theme that Ethan had on his iPod.

Today was different.

Sitting on the already blistering sand, Ethan looked eastward at the rising crimson sun. Over and over, his mind repeated the old saying.

_Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning._

He knew well enough that the saying had some merit to it. The redness of the sky was because of dust in the air, and that usually meant rain. But here in the desert...

"Hey, Venom!" Ethan turns to see Kyle Miller trudging up the dune. A lopsided smile envelopes his face.

"I'm never going to get rid of you, am I?"

Kyle grins, tossing a can of soda at the musing pilot. "Nah, you're suck with me." The hiss-click of the can echoes across the sand. "Nakano says we've got a long mission today."

"Thus the caffeine?"

Kyle nods as he sits down next to his friend. Looking east, the two Marines marvel at the magnificent display of color and light. Both know the saying, and both run through every possible scenario that could happen on the mission.

At least, every one that seems remotely feasible.

* * *

_While returning from a Close Air Support patrol…_

"Why are we here again?"

Leave it to Kyle to ask the obvious yet profound question. Ethan grimaces beneath his mask. He wasn't sure why he was here, flying a Harrier out of a dusty strip near the northern boarder of Iraq. All he knew was he was here.

"Captain, I will remind you that we are here because this nation has been locked in a battle with a superior military force for the last two years. It is our job, as determined by the President, the UN Security Council, and NATO, to aid them in their resistance to tyranny. Is that a sufficient enough reason?"

Not able to think up with a good follow up remark to the Lt. Colonel's logic, Kyle simply clicks his mike.

And leave it to the Colonel to put Kyle back in his place. Ethan looks left, seeing his wingman fidget in his cockpit a little. It may have been from what the Nakano said. Or, it may be from the long hours they had spent in the cockpit the past week. His musings are cut short, however, by the sight of something being sucked into his engine...

Suddenly, the Rolls-Royce F402 turbofan "snags" and starts loosing power. Ethan instantly reacts, his training taking over.

"Mayday! This is Stone-113. Engine failure!"

"Can you restart it?" The Lt. Colonel's calm voice tries to cut through the panic in the young pilot.

"Negative. I think I ingested something big. My starboard thrust nozzle is beginning to spew fire. I'm gonna have to eject."

"Roger that. We'll mark your position, and be back with the search and rescue team as quick as we can." The Lt. Colonel and Capt. Carl turn and head for "the Strip." Kyle lags for a little. Ethan tries to reassure him.

"I'll be okay, man. Besides," he pats his knee pocket, "I brought my book with me. I'll just finish reading it down there. See you later." With that, Ethan reaches down and takes hold of the big yellow handle with both hands.

In an instant, the glass above his head shatters, and his seat is sent flying through the opening.


	7. Collision

Collision

* * *

The first thing he notices as his seat rockets through the clear sky is the sting of the cold eastern Turkey mountain air as it sneaks through the gaps in his mask and helmet. The next thing is the strange sensation of flying without the fighter.

_Good thing I took the opportunity to go to Jump School._

In a few minuets, Ethan is safely on the ground. After taking a second to detach himself from the straps holding him to the parachute, he pulls out his service pistol, making sure the safety is off.

_Can't be too careful._ Picking up his survival gear, Ethan heads downhill, hoping to find somewhere safe to bed down for the night.

_"They're not coming back, you know."_

Spinning around, as quickly as the soft ground allows, Ethan points his gun at where he thought he heard a voice. His green eyes darting back and forth before he turns back around.

_"I said that they are not coming back."_

Ethan spins around, positive he heard the voice. Her voice.

_If there is another person here, perhaps I can get some help and get out of here sooner._ In spite of his survival training, Ethan turns around and heads back uphill.

Trudging slowly, weighed down by the pack, Ethan makes his way up a narrow path that curves around a near vertical cliff. What he finds on the other side of the cliff causes him to drop his pack, and his jaw.

A simple looking, yet large, corrugated half cylinder hanger sticking out of the hill dominates the small plateau. In front of it is a large, unmarked concrete pad. Beside the hanger is a shack made of concrete blocks.

"I hope they like visitors." Walking over to the shack, Ethan tries the door, finding it unlocked. Inside, the spartan nature of the small building screams 'military.' A simple table in the center of the room, a small kitchen, a pair of bunks against the far wall, a large metal box, and a bank of computers are all that is in the room.

Dropping his pack by the table and tossing his helmet on top of it, Ethan immediately moves over to the computers, hoping to get a radio message to an Allied unit. Unfortunately, all the equipment is foreign to him. And appears to be extremely old.

"Even if I did recognize the hard wear, I can't read any of the labels. Man, I should have studied more when I was in training." As he studies the various switches and buttons, Ethan notices one is blinking faintly. Pressing the button, Ethan steps back and hopes he did not just set the self destruct.

On the table, a small dome shaped object beeps. Ethan turns and cautiously steps closer. Unable to stop himself, he presses a button on the base. At the top of the dome, which looks like a conference room phone, a small shutter-like opening appears. A brief flash of light precedes the last thing Ethan was expecting to see: a six inch tall ghost-like image of a brown haired woman, looking straight at him. At first, Ethan thinks it is his sister, except the image looks older than Tory.

"…-be with you." She bows; her simple, yet elegant midnight blue dress shimmering as she does. After a few seconds, the image shifts, pauses, then repeats her fragmented message.

Sitting down on the box next to the computers, Ethan safeties his pistol and puts it back in its place on his left hip, still staring at the device on the table. "There's something familiar about her…"

Ethan takes off his gloves, listening to the skipping message of the woman. "Damn, this is a fine predicament I got myself in."

He looks about for any signs of recent use. The thick layer of dust on everything confirms his suspicion. "Whatever this place was, it is abandoned now."

The young Marine stands up and walks over to the bunks. Tossing his pack on one, he shucks his G-suit before laying down.

_One quick combat nap, then I'll start working on getting contact with someone.

* * *

_

_"Ethan. Ethan, son, wake up." Two strong hands continue to shake him. Groggily, he turns away from the shaking._

_"Five more minutes dad. No school today."_

_The shaking returns. "Ethan, I need you to wake up. We have someone you need to meet."_

_Ethan turns over. The downy warmth of his favorite blanket envelops him. He father smiles at him. As he turns to leave, Alexander Kardos runs into the model F4U Corsair hanging from the ceiling._

_"Careful dad, I just finished that!"_

_Alexander smiles, steadying the swaying model his ten year old son created._

_"Sorry, I'll be more careful next time." He tosses a pair of jeans at the boy. "Like I said, we have someone you need to meet."_

_Ethan gets out of bed, changing out of his pajamas. Instead of the jeans his father handed him, he puts on his Marine dress uniform. _If I'm meeting someone, I might as well look my best.

_Now dressed, Ethan runs downstairs, where his mother, Cassandra, and his father are talking with two people. Ethan immediately stops, coming to attention instinctively._

_"Ethan, I would like you to meet the Empress, and her son."_

_The young man, dressed in a black version of Ethan's uniform, stands, and bows. Ethan reciprocates._

_The woman stands as well, but does not bow. For a second, Ethan thinks that she may mot be able to bow for fear of ripping her beautiful blue dress. In seconds he is proven wrong, when she steps up to him and gives him a hug._

_"I'm so proud of you. You've grown so strong, and we," she gestures to his parents, "think that you are ready. That is why I visited you."_

_Ethan's brow furrows. "What? When did you visit me?"_

_"Last week, Csorba. Don't you remember?"_

_Ethan started to shake his head, then suddenly, as if forced, remembered the strange dream he had._

_"That was you." It was not a question, but a realization._

_She smiles. "Yes. Now, I need you to listen to me. You are about to meet someone who can teach you, train you, to be a great warrior, if you let him."_

_"But I've already been trained. See? I'm a Marine." For a second, Ethan ceases to be the tall, strong Marine, but instead is a ten-year-old pretending to be a soldier._

_"I know that you are, dear one. But your path is leading you to a place where being just a Marine won't be enough." She places both her hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "Please, Ethan. No matter what, you have a duty to your people. Please."_

Bolting upright, Ethan snaps out of a deep sleep. Looking at his watch, he sees that five hours have passed.

"So much for a quick nap."

Ethan stands up, and walks back over to the bank of computers. In the dim light, he trips over the box. Nearly falling over, Ethan turns to land sitting on the box. "A very fine mess I've gotten myself into."

Using his hands for support, Ethan leans back. In a few seconds, a soft hissing reaches his ears. "What-"

The box lurches as the top slides off, sending Ethan unceremoniously to the floor.

"-on Earth!" Inside the box is a strange gray waxen sculpture of a man. His robes harkens back to a time long forgotten. Resting on his chest, held by his folded hands, is the hilt of a sword; but there is no blade.

"Someone spent a lot of effort on this. Too bad the sword is broken." Ethan kneels down beside the sculpture, amazed at the detail. "Man, even the hair is meticulously shaped. It's like I could see each individual strand."

Like a curious child, Ethan tentatively reaches out to touch the motionless man. What he feels surprises him. _It's warm!_ Before he even registers the implication of the though, a pair of brown eyes snap open.


	8. Exile

Exile

* * *

A soft creaking resonates from the box as color starts to appear on the "statue." Slowly, Ethan backs away, unsure if what he is seeing is real. When the "statue" twists its neck, he knows.

"Kriff…that -cough- …took you long -cough- …enough." Slowly, the man gets up, using the sides of the box to steady himself. In his hand is the sword hilt. As soon as he is fully standing, he steps out of the box, and points the hilt at Ethan.

Instantly, Ethan has his handgun up; both of his hands steadying the nine millimeter weapon.

"I suggest you put that down, young man. I made a promise that I would not hurt you, and I am not one to want to break a promise to an old friend." The man, who is possibly in his fifties, steps closer to the young Marine. His dark cloak flows behind him, revealing a pair of worn leather boot on his feet. With each step, dust falls from the boots; a testament to the travels of their owner.

"Perhaps it is you who should stand down." Ethan adjusts his grip, leveling the gun with his opponent's eyes.

A faint smile forms on the older man's face. He brushes a lock of mid length gray-brown hair away from his eyes as he continues to move closer.

_"You can't kill him, Ethan. I told you earlier that they were not coming back."_

Ethan looks around, sure he is going crazy. The strange man laughs, taking a step towards Ethan. "She's right."

Boldly, Ethan stops backing away, and takes a step forward. "I don't know what's going on, but you had better stand down. Threatening a Marine is quite stupid. Especially when he has the gun and you are unarmed." Ethan adjusts his grip as if to emphasize his point.

The old man's eyes glisten mischievously. "Unarmed, eh?" With his free hand, he "twists" a spot in the air. Instantly, Ethan's gun is yanked from his left hand, and is caught by the man. Instead of turning it on Ethan, he tosses it into the box. "I do not know what they have taught you, fell, but if you are the one in the tactically inferior position, you should not be making threats. Especially against an opponent with superior skills and weapons."

Ethan looks at the man, his shock plainly evident on his face. "What weapons? You have a hilt with no blade; you tossed my gun away, so unless you have a knife or gun on you, we're equals now." Bringing his fists up, the young pilot begins to mentally prepare himself, like his hand-to-hand combat instructor had taught him.

A snap-hiss and the appearance of a violet colored shaft of light emanating from the hilt, straight at Ethan's throat, makes the young man step back and raise his hands.

"Perhaps you just need a lesson in manors?" Lowering his strange weapon, the old man takes a step back, giving Ethan room. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kyp Durron, Jedi Master and leader of the Exile Project."

Ethan stands there, stunned. _Standing in the room with me is a crazy hermit who thinks he's a famous science fiction character. I _really_ am in a predicament._

Durron's eyes bore into Ethan. "Usually, this is when you reciprocate and introduce yourself."

"Captain Ethan Kardos, United States Marine Corps."

"Kardos? Where did you pick that up, fell?"

Ethan tilts his head left, unsure of what Durron means. "What part of this planet did that name originate?"

"If you must know, it's from Hungary."

"Where?"

Ethan's eyes widen at that. "You've never even heard of Hungary. You're hardly a thousand miles away and you've never heard of it? You've got to be kidding me."

Durron's eyebrows furrow. "Just tell me where it is in relation to Athens."

"Are you telling me you know where Athens is?"

The older man nods. "Been there too. Nice city, very clean but crowded. Kind of sad we didn't get more people to listen to the message."

The young man shrugs, all the while trying to map out in his head the directions. "If you head due north from Athens, travel about four hundred miles, you'll reach the eastern boarder. It's not a very big country. And it's landlocked."

A knowing smile spreads on Durron's face. "So, fell, it's close to Rome as well."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ethan sits down on the bunk, burying his head in his hands. _This is just great. I'm stuck here with some crazy guy who thinks he's a character from a book_.

"I am not crazy."

"Oh yeah? Why do you keep saying 'fell'? Don't you know proper English grammar, or do you just like tossing a random word into sentences for no reason?"

"You really don't know?" Ethan shakes his head, unsure what it is he was supposed to know. Durron turns his head toward the table, where the message is still playing. "Maybe I'll let her explain." 


	9. Revelation

Revelation

* * *

After a few moments of tinkering, Durron restarts the device. Standing up, Ethan walks over to where the potentially crazy old man stands.

"Now it should play the whole thing." Pressing a button on the base, the image pauses, disappears, and then reappears. The chestnut brown eyes of the young woman seem to look right into Ethan's.

"Greetings. This message has been left for you, so that you may know what the situation is. I realize it has been some time since the Project left; Master Durron can no doubt tell you _exactly_ how long it has been."

Beside Ethan, the elderly man smiles. The image turns to where he stands, as if she is standing in the room with them.

"My father once told me how extremely uncomfortable it is to be placed in hibernation, but he also told me you knew ways to maintain yourself. I hope you had sufficient enough rest, because if he," the image points at Ethan, "is anything like me, you may very well go through all nine Hells training him."

Durron scoffs, adding under his breath: "Ten thousand years of rest would have never prepared me to train anyone like _you_, goddess."

The woman turns to look at Ethan once again. "I know that I should be getting to the heart of the matter. It's just that it is so strange leaving this message for you and not knowing if you will ever receive it. I hope you do. I've seen that you do."

Ethan mutters "When?" under his breath.

The image smile; her brown eyes lighting up as if she heard him. "I met you in your dream, Ethan."

Ethan's eyes go wide as he realize _that_ is where he saw her.

"I was at your bedside last week, too. As crazy as it may sound, I know you. I know your past," she gestures to herself, "which for me is now. I also have seen your future, at least possibly."

"What if he doesn't know you," a male's voice remarks from an unseen location.

"Oh, _ktah_, I didn't even think of that. I should introduce myself, just in case your parents have forgotten to tell you about your past. I am your ancestor: Jaina Solo-Fel."

* * *

L.S. I know, not the best way to go, or to end. Having some kinks to work out with the way the story goes from here. I've got the main plot and ending figured out, just can't make it flow. And it does not help that I haven't read a Star Wars book since the end of the Yuuzhan Vong War. I am so far behind. Please let me know if this is going well, or if I should put it out of everyone's misery. Either way, promise to have the message finished and posted soon. -Soter


	10. The Message

L.S. I won't usually add notes before a chapter, but I thought I should say that I had a flash of "anti-writer's-block" last night. Please, review and let me know if this is even worth reading. -Soter

* * *

The Message

* * *

If Ethan's jaw wasn't attached to his head, it would surely have hit the floor. "WHAT?!"

"Shh!" the Durron chastises. "I haven't heard her voice in an eternity. Let her finish." He turns back to the image of Jaina Solo-Fel, ignoring the young man with the dinner-plate-sized green eyes.

"About a year ago, one of the historians at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant found what they believed to be the coordinates of the human race's homeworld. This was a major revelation; one which many of us believe would change the galaxy as we know it. Having an official homeworld could unite humans in ways never before seen, both for good or evil. It was decided by the Council to keep the location a secret from the Alliance and the Empire. Secretly, we set up the Exile Project, with the intent to send 21 Jedi to this planet, called Erda in our documents.

"The inadvertent advantages of sending a group of Jedi to take up residence on the planet are obvious. Not only will there be Jedi no mater what happens in the Known Regions, but there will also be stable leadership available to the inhabitants of that world.

"Two of the volunteers that will be part of this 'expedition' are Davin, my second oldest son, and his girlfriend Kalie. As much as it pains me to see them leave, I know it is best. There is more; the reason why I am making this recording." She pauses, a sigh inaudibly escaping her lips.

"Though that may explain why you are there, that is not why I am leaving this message for you.

"Recently I saw a possible future. I saw a day, long after Jag and I are gone, when the Empire that we have tried to peacefully build will be destroyed, along with the rest of the Galaxy. Everything that my family has fought for, ever since my grandfather left Tatooine to train, will be destroyed.

"I do not know what happened, but I want to prevent it, if possible. If not, I want to be able to set it right. Nine years before I was born, my grandfather, Anakin, destroyed the last remaining Sith Lords. Everyone thought that he had finally brought balance to the Force. Yet since then Dark Jedi and Sith Lords have risen up despite the apparent 'balance' that he achieved. Uncle Luke was even fighting for the Emperor for a time. My own _brother_ became a Sith Lord.

"Something is wrong, but I don't know what it is. I am afraid to ask you what I must ask. I don't want you to be tempted by the Dark Side. Hopefully being removed from the rest of the galaxy will shelter you from the influence of the Dark Side. Or perhaps there is something you will learn that will bring greater clarity to this struggle. Whatever the case, you are our only hope.

"I guess that's it. All that is left is for you to train as a Jedi and make your return as the heir to the Fel throne. I pray you will. This Galaxy needs a stable leader, and if you're anything like Jag, I know you will be." Though the image is not extremely clear, Ethan is sure that he just saw a tear roll down Jaina Solo-Fel's cheek.

"Good luck, Ethan. And may the Force be with you." She bows, and the recording ends.

* * *

L.S. Next chapter hopefully before 2010. Thanks for reading thus far! -Soter


	11. The Beginning

The Beginning

"I…I'm…" Ethan isn't able to bring himself to say it. That's impossible. This can't be real.

"Why not?" Durron looks at the young man. "Why can't it be real?"

"Because you guys are characters in a series of books, movies and comics, see?" From his knee pocket, Ethan pulls out his book.

Setting down his lightsaber, Durron takes it and pages through. After a few seconds, he hands the book back to Ethan. "Where did you get that?"

"My brother sent it to me."

"No, I mean, the person who wrote it. Where did he get it?"

"'Star Wars.'"

Durron stares at him. "What's 'Star Wars?'"

"Over thirty years ago a filmmaker named George Lucas produced three films under the title 'Star Wars.' The first was about the Battle of Yavin and the destruction of the first Death Star. The second began with the Battle of Hoth and ended with Luke Skywalker's fight with Darth Vader. The last one focused on the Battle of Endor."

Durron closes his eyes for a moment. "You said his name was Lucas, right?" Ethan nods. "There was a Lucas in the project. Since he wasn't a trained Jedi, I didn't really keep track of him after Antioch. If I remember right, he was a historian."

"That would explain why he had such detailed stories." Ethan sat down on the bunk. A million thoughts raced through his head at the speed of light; none of them making sense. "What happened when you got here?"

Durron stands across from the young man, leaning on the table as he lets out a long sigh. "Where do I start?"

"How about when you left."

The Jedi Master shrugs. "We left in 58 ABY, which was...here let me check something quick." Durron walks over to the computer bank, punching a couple buttons before staggering backwards slightly.

"Are you okay?" Ethan rushes up beside him. "What's wrong?"

Durron blinks a couple times before speaking. "According to this, it has been 1,983 years since we left."


	12. The Way

The Way

* * *

Durron turns to sit down, nearly falling over as he makes his way to the bunk. "How could it have been that long?" Sitting down, he gazes at the dormant hologram. "Why did you wait this long to wake me? Why wait this long to call him?"

Tentatively, Ethan steps forward. "Master?" Durron looks up, a faint smile on the young man's face. "I though that would work. Anyway, I don't understand. Are you telling me you arrived here in the year 26?"

The disheveled Jedi nods.

"And you've been to Athens."

He nods again. "Rome too. And Jerusalem, Antioch, Tarsus, Alexandria, Caesarea, Ephesus, and Smyrna. Just to name a few."

Ethan sits next to him. "When were you in Jerusalem?"

"We were there with everyone else for Pesach, though Kalie was fifty days later."

"What happened fifty days later?"

"The spirit came."

"Spirit?"

The older man smiles. "His spirit."

"Stop holding out on me." Ethan leans forward, looking Durron in the eyes. "I think I have an idea of what you're saying, but I need you to say it. Whose spirit?"

"The Creator's."

Ethan's mind practically split open with wonder. _Before me is a Jedi Knight who was alive when the Son of David walked the earth. He may have even gotten to meet him. Owen is going to flip if he ever hears of this._

"You really think he will?" Durron smiles a little. "Or do you think your brother will just be amazed that I'm a Jedi?"

"You were reading my mind?" The Jedi shakes his head.

"No. You just think really loud, and it has been a while since I have been in contact with another Force-sensitive being."

Ethan laughs a little, imagining his brother pelting the Jedi with questions. "What I think will get him really excited is the knowledge that you were here when the Church began."

"Not just began, Ethan. Before. I got to hear the Teacher on Mount Eremos. I got to see Him enter the city. And I saw the crowds fifty days later. I saw thousands dedicate their lives to Him that day." A smile forms on the man's face. "It was incredible. The most amazing thing I had ever seen. All those people blindly dedicating their lives. It was at that point that we all converted."

The admission floored the young Marine. He thought he knew everything humanly possible about Star Wars, both cannon and non-cannon. He was intimately familiar with the Jedi order and it's philosophy. Never would he have imagined this.

"Why?"

A distant look fills Durron's eyes; as if he is looking back in time. "My life has been dedicated to serving others. I was given a gift: the Force. It was my job to use that gift. There were times when I misused it, such as Carida. Then there were time when I did what I was meant to: this mission especially. After arriving here, we were all drawn to this man we thought was also a Force-sensitive. After spending some time listening to Him, we came to realize that He wasn't a Force user. He was the Force."

The old master stands up, new power in his limbs, a new fire in his eyes. "We came here thinking we would help lead those living here. I thought that I had learned all I needed to be a master. Instead, Kalie and a few others became almost infatuated with Him. At first, Davin was concerned, until he started to really hear what was being said. In no time, all of us were sitting at His feet, soaking in the wisdom. I have to admit that I had the hardest time."

"Why is that?"

"I had spent so much of my time only knowing the surface of the truth. He opened my eyes to the depth of it. I realized that the Force, the ability to touch it, is a gift. I wasn't to be using it to better myself, but to know Him better. That was what I was missing. That is what I found.

"It made the decision to go into stasis that much harder."

The weight of the words hits Ethan harder than he could have expected. "Why?"

A silent sigh ripples through the Jedi's emotions. "Skywalker and Fel sent me to make sure that _you_ would be trained and able to return. After we found out about the true Force, Davin and Kalie thought that we should not teach you in the 'traditional' views of the Force. I fell to the Dark Side, as had Davin's uncle, great uncle and grandfather. Knowing the potential for power that you would have, considering you lineage, the three of us were worried about setting you on a destructive path."

"If you are worried about me turning evil, then the solution is simple: forget you ever found me."

Durron stares into Ethan's green eyes, finding a resolve there that no one could stop.

"Are you sure?"

* * *

L.S. Before anyone sends a review regarding the mixing of the Force and any other religion, bear with me. I am a theology major, I know a number of religions. I know the ones that inspired the Jedi, and the ones that are most opposite them. Christianity, especially if you look at the early Church, circa AD 40, you'll see similarities with the Potentium. My intention with this story started out just to bridge a couple gaps, such as the Earth-Galaxy Far Far Away gap. I will be using this view of the Force, of Good and Evil, as the story unfolds. It will help, I hope, to explain why my characters do what they do. If you wish to comment, please do. If you wish to start a theological debate, please don't. This is my view on how the Force should be seen. Wait till the obligatory redemption scene; I have something in store that even Master Yoda could not do. Enjoy! More to come soon.

-Soter


	13. Refusal

Refusal

* * *

The young Marine fighter pilot swings his pack back up over his shoulder, snatching his helmet in his left hand as he heads for the door.

"I'm sure, Durron. If you don't want to tempt me with evil, then leave me alone."

The ancient Jedi Master sighs. "Fine." Ethan stops, expecting him to be begging him to stay, for the greater good or whatever delusions of grandeur.

"That's it?"

Durron nods. "You'll be back."

Ethan narrows his eyes. "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Quickly, before he can change his mind, the young man is out the door.

The cold north wind bites at Ethan's skin as he trudges his way back to where he landed.

_It I can get there, I can set up a beacon. They'll look for me._

_"Don't count on it."_

Ethan yanks his pistol out of the holster, turning to meet whoever snuck up on him. What he finds is the glowing aura of her.

Silently, the spirit of Jaina Solo-Fel makes her way toward the young pilot. _"What? Tusk cat got your tongue?"_

In a daze, Ethan lowers his weapon as the Jedi warrior and Empress "walks" closer.

_"I told you that they are not coming back for you."_

"Then I'll go to them. That's what the blood chit is for. There's got to be someone with a truck I can hitchhike on."

Jaina shakes her head. _"You're not listening. You need to go and train with Kyp. The potential in you for evil is greater than you imagine."_

"No!" The young man surges forward, eye level with the apparition. "I know exactly what I am capable of."

_"Your ancestors-"_

"I know! Vader, Caedus, Skywalker, Fel, Solo, I know them all! I've watched them fall! But do you know what haunts me? _Do you?!"_

The image of the Jedi shakes her head.

"Twenty seventh of April, 1940. _That_ is what my ancestors are capable of! You don't know him, nor can you know what he did. You were not here!"

With a huff, the young man turns and hurries down the side of the mountain, away from the past. Jaina watches him trudge through the cold.

"Stubborn just like you." Durron gives a half-smile at his old friend.

_"Do you know what happened on April 27 of 1940?"_

"No, why?"

She looks back at her descendant, now far in the distance. _"It haunts him."_


	14. Return

Return

* * *

_Thirteen days later..._

Ethan had been riding on the back of the cattle truck for way to long. The grate behind the cab was not the most comfortable seat, nor did the front of the trailer provide a pleasant view. Or smell. It was amazing that the driver of the single person semi even allowed Ethan to ride along.

The squeak of the brakes drowned out by the whine of turbofans brings Ethan out of his musings.

Jumping down, Ethan thanks the driver before running to the gate to find his squadron. The gate officer wave him through, where Ethan meets Nakano and two other officers. Immediately, Ethan drops his pack and snaps to attention.

"Captain Ethan Kardos reporting for duty, sirs!"

Nakano smiles, saluting back. "Good to have you home, Venom. We'll need to debrief you and get you to the medic before you can fly."

Ethan grabs the pack, a slight spring in his step as he heads for the operations tent. To get there, the four Marines pass the flight line. Ethan spies his wingman, Kyle, signing a bomb. The annoying pilot waves and flashes one of the most sincere grins possible.

* * *

"So, that's all that happened?" Nakano sits back in his chair while one of the other officers takes notes.

"Yes sit." Ethan sits at attention; partially out of military training, partially to keep from falling over onto the table.

The other officer, a psychologist by trade, taps his pen against a notepad. "Amazing account, Captain." The shrink's eyes narrow marginally, judging the pilot.

Ethan makes eye contact, trying hard to get a read on the man. The psychologist's face is passive. _No doubt he'd be deadly to play poker with._

The thought of the card game makes Ethan laugh silently. _Sabacc too._

And just like that, the light bulb flashes. Closing his eyes, Ethan takes a deep breath and tries everything possible to clear his mind. The silence in he head is deafening, followed by a whisper. Three whispers. All of them say the same thing: unfit to fly.

"If you think I'm unfit to fly, then you've got another thing coming. If this briefing is done, I'm going to head to get cleared for flight." Standing up, Ethan turns and leaves the officers and their thoughts.

The young man's thoughts, though, follow him out the door.

* * *

_Did I just try to get into someone's head using the Force? What am I thinking?!_

The light thump of flight boots brings Ethan out of his thoughts. Turning around on his previously vacant bunk, Ethan sees his wingman, a big smile perpetually plastered to his face.

"Good to have you back, Venom."

The Captain smiles. "Good to be back."

Kyle sits down on the opposite bunk. "We're moving."

"Moving?"

The crooked smile disappears as Miller switches to his rarely seen professional side. "Yeah, the fighting's moved north. The airbase, we'll get call home is pretty close to where you ejected, actually. We'll be there with three more Marine squadrons, a couple of Navy squadrons, and supposedly even an Air Force unit."

"Why?"

Kyle shrugs. "Save fuel on our way to the front? Keep Turkey safe? I don't know. Haven't been briefed on that." The aviator leans forward, offering his hand to Ethan. "It'll be great to fly on your wing again, Kardos."

Ethan smiles, taking his hand. "It'll be a pleasure to fly on _your_ wing." The captain stands up. "Besides, someone has to keep your Six clear."

Kyle stands up, laughing all the way out of the tent.

* * *

_Two weeks later...somewhere in western Turkey..._

The whine of the base fades into the back of his mind as he stares out at the pre-sunrise glow. It had almost been a month since his entrance into the "Martin Baker fan club." One month of dwelling on his choice. One month of wondering if it was insane to wish it to be true.

Taking a deep breath, Ethan closes his eyes. The simple act of centering himself, a throw back to the martial arts he had learned in high school, calmed and comforted him. Lately, he had been pressing himself to do more than just calm himself.

Tentatively, Ethan reaches out with an invisible hand, cautiously probing the possible power of his mind.

At his feet, a small rock rests; hardly the size of a baseball. Against his toes, he can feel the weight. In his mind he feels it as well. The cool surface, the pits and cracks, every detail is felt in the hyper-sensitive touch of his mind.

_I_ can_ do this._

Slowly, Ethan focuses his mind's grip, willing the rock to relinquish its bonds with gravity. Minute grains of dust fell through his hold as the rock shuddered free of the earth. A miniscule gap forms beneath the rock as Ethan wills it higher. In seconds, the rock is at waist level; Ethan's left hand splayed out just above it.

Opening his eyes, Ethan sees his handy work and smiles. _I am a Jedi._

_"Not yet."_

Jumping slightly at the voice, Ethan drops the rock. Right on his toe. Turning, hopping really, the young pilot sees the ethereal image of Jaina.

_"You are not a Jedi until you have finished your training. All you have done is take the first step."_ She smiles at him, lifting the rock he dropped. _"Why are you here so early?"_

"The last couple days it's felt like something's going to happen. Feels like the jitters I get before a battle."

_"Is there a mission?"_

Ethan shakes his head. "I'm cleared to fly, but have no plane. I doubt that I'll be flying any missions for the rest of this tour."

"_Don't be so sure. Your instincts may provide a window to future events. Calm your mind and tell me what you see. I will try to help you."_ Jaina closes her eyes, placing her hands on either side of Ethan's head.

As his green eyes roll back in his head, Ethan sees the most amazing sight. For an instant, he is floating above the clouds, looking down on a massive furball. Light grey painted planes are mixing it up with large bombers and small grey-blue fighters. One, with a cobra shaped front, catches his attention. Pirouetting between two twin tailed fighters, the grey one lashes out, destroying the first, before spinning again. Ethan sees no weapons on the lone fighter, but knows exactly what the pilot will do next.

Ethan's eyes snap open, only to see that the spirit of Jaina is gone.

"I best get ready, then." Looking to the sun, now peaking over the mountains, the young pilot smiles. "I will return. I promise." 


	15. Ace

Ace

* * *

Ethan begins to make his way back to the airbase. In the back of his mind, and the pit of his stomach, he can't help but overcome a sense of impending dread.

* * *

"Your bet, sunshine." Kyle smiles at his opponent, a young Navy lieutenant. Three chips clink against the table as the pilot makes his bet.

"Jarhead?" The "squid" looks to his left, at Ethan. Maintaining a completely passive face, Ethan glances at the three other players, making eye contact for a brief second. He has no doubt that Kyle has a relatively good hand, but the Navy El-Tee has a better one. What they don't know is what Ethan has.

The young Marine tosses his matching bet in, as well as raising with an extra twenty.

"I'm out." Nakano sets down his cards.

A second player, one of the plane captains, does likewise. Kyle's eyes dart, unsure of what to do. After a second of deliberation, he folds as well.

"Last bet."

The Navy pilot smiles slightly. "If you want to call it quits, just say so Kardos."

"Marines never surrender. And we take no prisoners." He motions to the table. "Say goodbye to your money and just play your hand."

"So sure I've lost, huh?"

Ethan closes his eyes. "I'll even guess what you have." Quieting his mind, Ethan focuses on the cards. He can't see them, but he can tell that three are marked the same. That is all he needs. "Full house. Low one, too."

The Navy Hornet drive's jaw nearly falls off his head. Nakano leans over to see the cards, only to have the most perplexed look cross his face.

"Well?"

The pilot lays his hand down, showing three tens and two aces.

Ethan shrugs. "Not as low as I thought. Oh well, not like it matters."

"There's no way you've got a better hand."

The Marine raises an eyebrow in protest. He places his cards on the table. Ace, king, queen, jack and ten, all in hearts, displayed proudly. "Any questions?"

The banshee whine of the air raid siren halts any conversation. The pilots scramble out of the mess hall, heading to their ready rooms, then their planes.

Ethan, however, stands on the tarmac. Without a plane, he cannon go and fight.

All about the base is smoke, shrapnel, and bomb craters. Three Humvee carcasses sit smoldering near the Navy Hornets. Most of the fighters are in pre-flight. Except one.

Ethan runs over, finding the plane captain muttering something.

"Chief, where's your pilot."

The enlisted man points at the Humvees.

"How soon will this Bug be ready to fly?"

The Chief Petty officer looks up, renewed resolve and fight in his eyes. "I can have her ready in five minutes."

"Be right back." Ethan sprints over to the ready room. On one a scrap of paper, Ethan scribbles a quick note. Stuffing this into an envelope, Ethan runs out of the room, his helmet in his hand. As he reaches the grey F/A-18C, he stops to address the letter.

"Chief, if I don't come back, mail this for me."

The man take the letter, and helps Ethan into a g-suit. The young Marine vaults into the cockpit faster than usual. In moments, the Hornet surges forward and Ethan makes his way to the runway. Nearly every single plane is caught in a pile up of eager pilots trying to get in the air first. From somewhere above them, a voice gets everyone's attention.

"All pilots, report in."

Pilots acknowledge the AWACS with their flight numbers. Last to report in is Ethan.

"Rogue Eleven ready to fight."

Muttered shock filters though the headset as pilots realize who the rogue pilot is.

"Captain Kardos, what are you doing?"

"There wasn't a pilot in this plane; bought the farm. We're going to need all the help we can get, so I jumped in."

"That's not your plane, Captain," the AWACS chastise.

"I promise to try and bring it back safe, dad. Not a scratch if I can help it."

The pregnant pause that follows nearly stops Ethan's heart. "Alright, Captain. Miller needs a wingman anyhow. Follow him and keep out of the fight if you can help it."

Two mike clicks and Ethan Kardos is back in action.

* * *

Ethan runs his fingers over the various buttons and switches of the cruising Hornet, familiarizing himself with each one. In his headset, the AWACS drones on about the situation.

A squadron of Su-24 Fencers had been sent to take out the base. Behind them are Tu-160 Blackjack bombers, escorted by Su-27 Flankers. It appears that they are inbound to the major army bases and refugee camps farther in country. The Fencers, it seems, were supposed to conduct a quick strike, taking out the base's ability to fight back.

_Too bad for them._

The pilots have been split up, with the Marine Harriers making up the bulk of the group that are assigned to base defense. The higher performance fighters are to head out and intercept the bombers before they reach the base. Anything that leaks through will be dealt with by the Harriers. And Ethan in his Hornet.

Someone on the ground radios that the Fencers are heading back through. Ethan and Miller break off, chasing down three of the fast bombers. Ethan checks his weapons, seeing that he has two AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles and one AIM-120, as well as a partial cannon load.

"You'd better try to take these Six-Pack. I've only got three missiles."

"Roger Venom. You sure you don't want one?"

Ethan smiles. "If you miss one, I'll take a whack at is."

Kyle peals off, launching two missiles. Both eat up the aft section of the tactical bombers. The third bomber drops low and outruns the attack jet.

"Can't catch him, Ethan. You wanna try?"

As soon as the words cross the airwaves, Ethan drops his fighter low. Behind and below the large blue and white swing wing jet, he launches one of his heat seeking missiles. The 'Winder snakes in, blasting through the engine compartment and into a fuel tank. The Fencer erupts in a massive ball of fire, scorching the Hornet as it passes through.

Out of the corner of his left eye, Ethan sees the landing pad and hanger where Durron was. _He's probably watching the battle. Might as well give him a show. _In the distance, Ethan sees on of the bombers and its escorts come closer.

"Stone-114, this is Rogue Eleven. I'm breaking off and taking out the bombers. See you later, Kyle."

Not waiting for a response, Ethan speeds off. He unplugs his microphone and headset, knowing that he would not need the AWACS for this flight. Taking a deep breath, Ethan quiets his mind.

Instantly, he sees himself, seated in his fighter, hurling towards the enemy. One of the escorting Flankers turns toward him.

Blinking, Ethan sees the fighter in question, farther away than what he saw. _Force reflex, maybe?_ Quickly, the young Marine sets up an "in the lips" Sidewinder shot, which track straight into the right side nacelle of the bigger interceptor.

_One down, four to go._

Ethan has no time to celebrate his fifth victory as the remaining Flankers pass below the Hornet. Ethan stands the fighter on its tail, knowing that the first move he makes out of the merge will determine his fate. Two Flankers break right while the others, painted in splintered grey, break left and drops into the mountains.

_First things first. Take care of the escorts, then the bomber._ Ethan rotates his fighter so that the two blue Flankers are, relatively, above him. Dropping on his back, Ethan sends the fighter on a collision course with the Sukhoi fighters.

"Come and get me, boys."

The three fighters are moving too fast for any to get a lock. Only Ethan thinks to send off a burst of cannon fire. The sixty rounds lance out at the fighters, damaging the one slightly and destroying the engine of the other. The pilot elects to bail out.

Quickly Ethan converts on the remaining blue Flanker. Slowed down by the cannon slugs, the fighter cannot out run the smaller Hornet. Thirty seconds and fifty rounds later and a third Flanker falls.

Spinning his head around, Ethan searches for the other Flankers. They're right where he expects them, on his six o'clock. Standing the Hornet on its tail, Ethan claws for altitude. He knows that the Flanker has more speed, but it will most likely overshoot or stall before they can kill him. The three fighters pirouette about each other, vying for the coveted spot.

For a second, the ploy works. One of the Flankers starts to stall and breaks off. Now Ethan is left dealing with one. Slowly the larger fighter eases out in front of the Hornet. Ethan rolls his fighter to line up a shot. Thirty rounds of ammo spit out of the nose, then the cannon falls silent.

_Szar! _The hunter is now the hunted.

Suddenly, the grey Flanker breaks into a snap-roll. As it slides past Ethan, the young pilot gets a good view of the fighter. Something stands out, a detail from a recognition photo he studied. On the spine, just behind the canopy, a simple oblong bump.

_I'm dogfighting an Su-35 Flanker-E without any weapons!_ The super Flanker continues to slide aft while Ethan struggles to come up with a plan.

_What do I have left?_ Glancing about the cockpit, Ethan spies the one thing left that can save him. Orienting himself so his belly is "up," Ethan punches the flare dispensor right as the Flanker gets a lock.

A single flare kicks itself out of the box aft of the intakes. Reaching out with his mind, Ethan finds the white hot magnesium ball, directing it to the last place any pilot would want it to go:

His enemy's engine inlet.

The large Lyulka engine explodes, destroying the fighter. Ethan breaks off at ten thousand feet, leveling his fighter to assess the damage.

Before he can do anything, a voice in his headset yells for him to break. A single Archer missile strikes his aft, tearing away the left engine and controls. Snapping his head around, Ethan sees eight more Flankers and another swing wing monstrosity. Turning into the engagement, Ethan dodges the locks of two more missiles before finding himself head to head with the Blackjack. There is no doubt in his mind what he must do.

"All planes, this is Captain Ethan Kardos. It has been a pleasure flying with you one last time." Ethan jams the throttle forward, sending his supersonic fighter straight at the bomber. Reaching down, he feels the cold metal of the yellow and black ejection handle. Letting go, he returns his hand to the throttle.

"Try surviving this, _szemetlada_!" Ethan can make out the surprise on the pilot's face as he reaches for the handle. For a second, the Marine pilot's vision is enveloped by a flash of light, and then darkness.

Captain Ethan Kardos is no more.

* * *

L.S. I've been using the Translate button on Google for most of my Hungarian words. Supposedly, szar means sh*t and szemetlada means SOB (that is if Google translate is right). If I'm wrong, let me know.

By the way, the story has reached a transition point. I've spent too long developing only one character when I still have three more that are necessary to the plot

Hopefully everyone enjoyed the dogfight. I tried to keep as accurate as possible, though the oblong bump on the Su-35 is made up, I think. I haven't seen anything visually that sets them apart. More soon to come (I hope).

-Soter


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